


The Unexpected Gift

by AngeliqueH



Series: When Winter Comes [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bakery, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes deserves all the best in the world, Bucky loves history, Christmas, Depression, Disabled Character, Engineer Steve Rogers, First Christmas, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Gay Steve Rogers, It's not as sad as it looks, M/M, Meet-Cute, Orphans, POV Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Service Dogs, Sign Language, Snowball Fight, Speech Disorders, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers is a Star Wars fan, Traumatic Brain Injury, hemianopsia, hemiplegia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 00:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13111881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliqueH/pseuds/AngeliqueH
Summary: Steve Rogers is fine.After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Tracy7307 for editing this fic <3 <3
> 
> Additional tags for this chapter: ableist and homophobic Brock Rumlow (minor appearance. He's an asshole as always.) 
> 
> First two chapters will alternate Steve and Bucky's POV

That's it.

Steve is officially moved in. Not that the last two months didn't count, but the last couple of boxes piled up in the corner of his new Brooklyn apartment kept nagging him, making sure to remind him that he was a newcomer in his old neighborhood.

Those same boxes had remained untouched for more than ten years, stacked in the corner of an unused closet back in Sam's apartment in DC. The contents were pretty much useless and insignificant, but Steve never found the courage to throw away the last tangible things that reminded him of his childhood. He'd like to use his silly theory of the unopened box to explain why he never felt like he belonged in Washington, but that would be too easy.

Steve is kneeling in the middle the floor of the spare bedroom. He looks up at the white painted wall in front of him. It is now covered with a variety of frames of different colors and shapes: pictures of him as a child, some of his baseball teams, some of his mother, and at least three of him standing in front of the Cyclone at Coney Island, looking like he was about to be sick in every one of them - no mom, I’m not going to throw up.

The cold November rain is pounding the sidewalk outside as the wind blows the remaining leaves off the trees. He tries to keep the feelings of nostalgia at bay, but they overcome him anyway.

Alone, he wonders how he'll use this spare room. Maybe as a guest room. But who would be visiting him? Steve sighs and runs his fingers through his messy blond hair.  He refuses to feel sad for himself. Of course, he has friends. Many good friends. Friends all over the world. Busy friends. Friends so busy they had no time to call him and ask how he's doing. Way too busy to meet with him at the coffee shop nearby.

But that's okay. 

He's the one who left after spending a little more than ten years with the same man. He’s the one who used the last ounces of love he had for Sam and ended their agonizing relationship while both men still had some dignity. He did it out of respect for Sam and himself. Until her passing two years ago, Sarah Rogers treated Sam as her son, but Steve knew this is what she would have wanted him to do if she were still alive.

Pushing down the memory of her, Steve looks out the window. It's getting dark even though it's barely 5:30 pm. He’ll have to remember to turn his clock back an hour next weekend.

He picks the cheap wood framed picture resting at the bottom of the last box, sits back on his heels, and stares at it. 'Salute to Seniors, Brooklyn Tech. High School, class of 2002'. Steve chuckles. After the 'Oh-fuck-what-the-hell-was-I-thinking-wearing-this’ humiliation and the 'okay-those-idiots-look-even-worse’ relief, he starts scanning every faces, trying to remember some names. Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Tony Stark - of course, hard to forget. Many unknown faces, some assholes: Brock Rumlow, Jasper Sitwell and some other goons Steve never bothered to speak to. His eyes stop at the end of the third row.

James Buchanan Barnes… Bucky.

Steve never really knew him, but he has never forgotten his name.

He stands up and hangs up the frame on the wall among the other pictures. His eyes keep going back to the sad-looking face of the brown-haired boy. He was sitting at the end of the row of students, shoulders hunched, both hands hidden in the front pocket of an oversized black hoodie. He looked like he wanted to disappear.

Steve remembers the day James Barnes arrived in the middle of 12th grade. He would ignore everyone. Talk to no one. Miss school often.  There was always a new rumor about James Barnes, about why he would never use his left arm or attend gym class, but no one knew his real story. Everyone thought he was mute, but he wasn't; at least not technically, Steve was probably the only student to know that.

He steps back as the memory of the day this picture was taken floats back into his mind.

 

_“Barnes! Fucking retarded. What? You think you're better than me? Answer me! Stupid faggot.”_

_“Brock! That's enough! Leave him alone.”_

_“Shut up, Rogers. It's none of your business.”_

_“Bullies are everyone's buisn...”_

_Brock Rumlow charged at Steve but was intercepted by the school security officer. The altercation ended with the bell ringing and Brock Rumlow going to the principal’s office. James Barnes was nowhere to be seen. Alone in the hallway, taking deep breaths to calm himself, Steve turned on his heels and started walking to his locker to get his backpack, hoping the teacher would excuse him for being late. He was searching for his math book when he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder. James' grey eyes were fixing him, but his gaze went down as soon as Steve turned to face him. His lips were moving like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head gently, frustrated, but looked back at Steve with determination. He brought the fingers of his right hand to his lips and whispered "thanks" as he moved his hands forward in Steve's direction, using ASL to emphasize the softly spoken word._

_“Oh. Um, anytime. No worries. James, right? I'm Steve, Steve Rogers.”_

_Steve brought up his hand to shake. James, unsure, considered it but didn’t reach for it. The awkward silence was broken after a few seconds._

_“Bu-Bucky.” His voice was soft but a bit rough, probably from disuse._

_“Y-you can ca-call me B-Bucky.”_

Steve's eyes linger on the window. The rain has subsided. He watches a man walking his dog to the park in front of his building. He observes how the man takes out the dog leash and deftly unclips with one hand the service dog's vest. After placing the vest on the wet bench next to him, he pulls out of his dark winter coat pocket a tennis ball. He watches the master and his dog enjoying the empty park for a few minutes. The black Labrador runs back and forth, playing fetch with his human without any consideration for the gloomy weather.

Steve picks up the two empty boxes, turns off the light and leaves the room.

 

~*~

 

“Y-yeah; I know. G-good boy. Go g-get your ball,” Bucky stammers.

Winter wags his tail excitedly. He's been restless a good part of the day, going back and forth in Bucky's apartment. The lousy weather had kept both of them inside except for a quick peek outside in the morning. As soon as the rain subsided, Bucky got off his couch where he spent all day watching the History channel, displeased with himself for losing track of time. It tends to happen when he doesn't go through his routine. The clock on the microwave says it's a little past 5 pm and Bucky realizes that he also forgot to eat. Phil and Melinda wouldn't be happy.  Even though he doesn’t live with his foster parents anymore, he feels he owes them that much. Taking good care of himself means he has to stick to his routine.

He finds the small box of protein bars on the counter; he always keeps some on hands for days like this. He picks one and shoves it in the pocket of a heavy black jacket hanging on a hook near the entrance.

He puts on his hiking boots; he’s mastered lacing them with only one hand through the years.  Unfortunately, zipping his heavy coat doesn't go as fast. He fiddles with the fly a few minutes. It takes him four or five attempts before succeeding, only for the zipper to get caught in the fabric halfway up. There was a time when things like this would have been enough for Bucky to give up. He would have chucked the damn winter coat on the floor and crashed into his bed with his self-deprecating thoughts.

He closes his eyes and takes some deep breaths. Winter's muscular body is pressing gently against Bucky's leg. When he re-opens his eyes, his dog is watching him expectantly, wagging his tail. Bucky pets the soft, black hair of his service dog, letting his warm presence calms him down. He finally manages to zip his jacket all the way up and reaches for Winter's service dog vest and leash. On the wall next to his door, the small pictograms of a cell phone, a wallet, and some keys reminds him to double check that he hasn't forgotten anything. He picks up the ball Winter left at his feet and goes for a walk.

The street is quiet, most people choosing to remain warm rather than face the harsh temperature. As he walks into the park nearby with Winter leading the way, Bucky remembers Phil and Malinda scouring the city to help him find the perfect location – one that was central to everything so that he could be as self-reliant as possible as driving wasn’t an option for him. For Bucky, the selling point came during a five-minute walk from his front door to the park’s entrance.

That’s his life: simple and yet so complicated. A normal life is all he wants, but for someone with his physical and cognitive limitations, it takes time. So much time. For Bucky, it took seventeen years to get where he is. January 31st, 2000: a drunk driver, some bad winter conditions, and Georges and Winifred Barnes and their two kids at the wrong place at the wrong time. Only Bucky survived the fatal crash. The multiple fractures and significant brain injury left him with his left side paralyzed, half of his visual field gone, and unable to speak. He spent a whole year in recovery where he regained the use of his left leg and enough autonomy to go back to school to finish the 12th grade. He spent the worst six months of his life in a new school, struggling with painful migraines and memory loss, humiliation and loneliness, bullies and sadness.

But that was then. This is now.

The park being empty as it is, he decides to take off Winter's vest - meaning that he is off duty - and lets him off his leash.  Winter runs from one puddle of rain to the other. They play fetch for a while before it gets too dark. Bucky lets his dog run freely a bit longer while he chews on his protein bar.

He walks back to his place. Time to start his routine for the night and get ready for tomorrow. Tomorrow is Monday. He works on Mondays.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned in the first chapter, this one alternates Steve and Bucky's POV

Monday morning comes with a clear sky, but that is not enough to ease the heaviness in Steve's chest. Back in DC, Sam kept telling him he was depressed, that he needed to see a therapist or talk with someone. Talk to someone about what? To complain about a job he likes and cry about the good money he makes? Talk about how easy it is for him to keep his athletic body and his model-like looks? Even though his love life has been a little bumpy lately, he's still grateful for having a fantastic man like Sam in his life for a little more than ten years. They both agreed that they needed to go their separate ways, and Steve left Sam on good terms. A therapist would probably ask Steve to talk about his mother’s passing. That was two years ago. She'd been fighting cancer for many months before she passed away peacefully with her only son by her side holding her hand. It was somehow a relief when she died.  Maybe he could talk about how he found out he was gay back in high school and never suffered from intimidation or rejection from his mom and friends after coming out?

Steve lets out a deep breath. He is fine.

He climbs out of bed and heads to the bathroom, trying to shake the sleep from his mind. It's too late to go for a morning run as he usually does. He's been kind of lazy lately; messing with his training schedule. He just hasn’t felt up to it. That trainer he's paired with on his fitness app says that you have to listen to your body and take a day off when you feel the need, but Steve is sure the guy didn't mean to take a whole month off. He curses at himself, feeling guilty. He turns the handle of the shower to the right and leaves it there, hoping the cold water will dissolve the numbness in his head.

No, really. Steve is okay. He's fine. Melancholic? Maybe. Tired? Of course. Moving from another city and starting a new job bring their share of stress, and the list of things to do is endless.

Steve picks up a pair of jeans from the floor. He's been wearing them for the last couple of days. He checks them for stains and wrinkles before putting them on. He buttons a blue shirt - this one is clean at least – over a plain white t-shirt, and stares at his reflection in the mirror. He can’t remember the last time he had a haircut. His face is covered with a two-months-old beard because he hasn’t bothered to shave since he moved from Washington. Depressed? He's not even sure he has the right to feel that way considering how blessed and lucky he is, compared to some other. 

Telling himself that he's just going through a rough patch, Steve walks out of his room. He peeks outside the living room window. As if life wanted to remind him how some folks have it much harder, he spots the same man with his dog in the park on the other side of the street.  He is sitting on a bench, shoulders hunched, head down, chin on his chest. The dog is wearing a red vest and is glued to his owner's side, licking the man's right hand.

Steve isn't hungry yet. He dresses warmly and leaves his two-bedroom apartment (something that’s quite luxurious for a single man). As soon as he begins to walk outside, Steve regrets not bringing his favorite ridiculously expensive designer sunglasses. Steve puts all thoughts of his pointless existence to the back of his mind and walks to the closest metro station, pretending that everything is fine. Really, he definitely shouldn’t feel sorry for himself.

~*~

Bucky startles at the sound of his alarm. Even after all those years, he sometimes forgets for a brief moment that his left arm is paralyzed and that his left leg is weak. He jerks out of bed, confused, thinking that he's late for work but trips, unable to support himself adequately. It all happens in a matter of seconds. His dog rushes to his side and starts licking his hand and the side of his face. Bucky wants to tell Winter that he's okay but the words don't come out this morning.

He groans roughly and rubs his face before getting up off the floor and starting his morning routine. Hopefully, the day will be better than the way it started. He checks the list pinned to his bedroom wall: shower, shave, find weather-appropriate clothes, have breakfast, take his meds, feed and walk his dog.  As simplistic as it sounds, this routine is what keeps Bucky functioning.

With Winter on his tail, he limps to his bathroom and turns on the shower. The hot water runs down his short hair. A few years ago, no one, including himself, would have thought he'd be able to live on his own. Many things have changed since Winter came into his life. Slowly, with his service dog by his side, Bucky gained enough confidence to ask Phil and Melinda if they could help him find an apartment. The money he inherited combined with the settlement that occurred after the trial allowed him to buy this little apartment.

As he finishes getting ready, a trace of a smile appears on Bucky's clean-shaved face when he thinks of how much progress he has made. Coming out of his shell took him quite some time, but he is happy with what he has now. To some, it's not much, but people who met him before would agree that he has come from far. After finishing high school (though he still suspects that his teachers took pity on him), he entered a special education program. He learned how to sign with one functioning arm while continuing speech therapy. Back then, there were more bad days than good ones, where pain, depression and a total loss of hope was all he had except for two generous and selfless foster parents who never gave up on him.

He dresses and makes himself a quick breakfast with toast and berries. He pops his meds in his mouth between two scoops of yogurt, hoping they'll help with the migraine forming in the back of his head.

He taps on the countertop three times to call Winter. His dog quickly bumps into his knee.

While Winter is making a feast of his dog food, Bucky starts dressing up for his walk. Soon enough, they are on the sidewalk in the cold morning air.

Bucky's migraine is getting worse. He holds tight to Winter's leash, letting him lead the way to the park. He sits on a bench, shuts his eyes and rubs one temple with his hand. It's a bad day, and bad days come and go for Bucky. From all the therapy sessions he had in his life, he’s learned one thing for sure: he is allowed to feel sad and sorry for himself. The throbbing headache makes him feel dizzy. He rests his chin on his chest and closes his eyes for a moment, fighting the tears forming in his eyes. He wishes he had someone by his side, holding his hand, telling him that he'll be alright. He misses his parents' brownstone, his mom's delicate perfume, and her delicious cooking. He can still picture his dad laughing while telling his mom about his day at work while Becca argues that she's old enough to cut the veggies. His lips turn into a soft smile as warm memories flood over him. He remembers how it feels to be loved. This feeling will never be taken away from him, no matter what. He opens up his eyes; Winter is licking his hand as the tightness in his chest subsides. He breathes deeply, his service dog dutifully remaining by his side. With the cold November air filling his lungs, Bucky feels his headache slowly dissipating. He stays there a few more minutes before heading back to his apartment. He spots a tall man coming his way with his head hunched and his shoulders down. The man lifts his head briefly as he walks by Bucky and his dog. His face is covered with a scruffy blond beard, and he looks preoccupied, or maybe it’s sadness. A few steps away, Bucky frowns, wondering why this man’s eyes look so familiar.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! They finally meet!

Steve opens his eyes. The daylight is streaking through the semi-sheer drapes. He checks his phone on the bedside table: 9:28 am. He can't remember when was the last time he woke up this late. He rubs his face and runs his fingers through his messy hair. His mouth feels dry from the sleeping pills. Laying on his back, he stares at the ceiling wondering how the hell he ended up in this situation. How did this become his life? He had a great boyfriend, a successful career as a project engineer. He used to travel around the world - business class. Now he's single - by choice. He has a job - not as glamorous as the previous one, but work is work. He's fit; some would even say that he's good looking - but what's the point when you feel useless?

Last week was Thanksgiving. Everyone at the office was excited and talking about their upcoming family reunions and decadent meals. Some would make plans to watch some football games together. He tried, Steve swears that he tried... Until he totally lost his nerve and shouted at one of his techs to shut the fuck up and focus on the god damned plans he had to submit before the end of the day.

Steve sighs heavily. He still feels awful and guilty, remembering what happened next: everyone in the office going silent, the general manager calling him to the head office, sitting in front of Fury's, waiting to be suspended. To Steve's surprise, Fury only asked him to go rest at home and made sure that Steve knew about the employees' assistance program offered by the firm. That same night, alone in his apartment with nothing but leftovers of Chinese food, some beers and a bottle of whiskey, Steve felt something breaking inside of him. He couldn't pretend anymore. He wasn't fine. He needed help. Angry at himself for not listening to Sam in the first place, he opened the whiskey bottle he had received as a farewell gift from his colleagues in DC and drank himself to sleep. He spent the long weekend in a lethargic state of mind until the silence of his apartment became overwhelming. He had to speak to someone, so he called Sam.

           _"Steve! How have you been? How was Thanksgiving?" Sam sounded like he was genuinely caring. Steve's voice broke, unable to say anything. A shuttering breath was all Sam could hear; Steve was crying. "You're not okay, aren't you? Want some help?”_

Steve closes his eyes a moment and takes some deep breaths, remembering his conversation with Sam. He’s anxious. What if the old Steve never comes back? If he wants to feel better, he has no choice; he will have to open up and deal with some issues.

Yesterday, on Sam’s advice, he met with a therapist. He felt drained after the one-hour session but somehow relieved. Scared and lost, wondering where to go next, but relieved. He also went to a medical clinic to see a doctor, knowing that depression has nothing to do with how strong you are or how well things are going for you in life and that he might need medication. He knows he ignored the signs. In his opinion, it is worse than not seeing it coming.

Steve stretches in his bed before sitting on its edge. He downs his medication with the bottle of water he left on his bedside last night. He sees life happening outside on the street through the sheer curtains. He watches it for a while, feeling uneasy about being home on medical leave instead of being at work.

He finally gets out of bed and walks to his bathroom. He stares at his face in the mirror. He's been thinking about shaving his beard for a while now. Maybe it’s a good place to start. After placing a towel in the sink to prevent clogging, he starts trimming his long scruffy beard, first with scissors and then with his razor.

He takes a quick shower. He dresses in sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. Yesterday he told his therapist that he would try to go back to his training; not to impress anyone, only to feel good about himself.  She talked about the 'happy hormones process' that happens in the brain when someone is active, but he only half listened to her. He puts on his warm coat and goes for a simple walk instead of a run.

~*~

As Steve wanders through the neighborhood, he notices shops, cafés, and bakeries he didn't even know were there.  Since he moved back to New York a few months ago, all he has done is work. Being recognized by his peers should have been rewarding, but only left him empty. Steve pulls up his scarf to protect his clean-shaven face from the cold wind, but he can already feel his cheeks burning. He passes by a library and without really thinking, he runs up the small flight of stairs and pushes the door open.  A warm draft of air welcomes him along with the smell of old books. He walks by the clerk's desk, nods and smiles to the lady behind it.  On the floor, a black Labrador is resting by a cart with piles of books waiting to be shelved. Steve recognizes the dog’s red vest, looks around for his owner but doesn't see him anywhere.

"Nice dog. Is It yours?" Steve asks the young lady at the desk. Her tag says that her name is Wanda. Steve knows too well this isn't her dog. For some reasons he can't explain, he feels connected to the dark-haired stranger from the park. He wants to know who he is and wonders what his story is.

"That's Winter, Bucky's service dog." Her voice is soft, and Steve detects a trace of an accent; Eastern Europe maybe.

"Bucky?" Steve asks, a little taken aback. Steve barely knew him back in high school, but he still remembers the boy's sad blue eyes. "Does he work here?"

"You know him? Then you know the best way to find him." She points toward the history section with her head before turning and checking the clock on the wall behind her. "He's on his lunch break."

Steve walks toward the area identified as the history and geography section. He has no idea what to say to Bucky; he's not even sure he'll remember him. He keeps looking for the brown-haired boy from his old 12th-grade picture. He finally spots him, sitting at a table with a pile of books, reading and taking notes. He's much thinner than Steve expected, but to his defense, every time he watched the man and his dog from his window, he was wearing a heavy winter coat. The well-defined muscles of his right arm contrast whit the atrophic left one. His left shoulder is drooping down, and his spastic hand is crooked inward. Steve remembers how he used to hide it all the time, but he doesn't seem to mind as much now.

"Bucky?"

Bucky startles. He looks up at Steve, unsure.

Steve walks closer to where he sits. Scratching nervously at the back of his neck, he looks around to make sure he's not disturbing anyone else.

"It's me, um, Steve. Steve Rogers. We were both in 12th grade; you probably don't remember me, I ..."

Bucky tilts his head and looks away, obviously trying to remember. He finally nods his head slowly and looks back at Steve with a soft smile.

"... I know it's weird, but I saw you and your dog a few times now; I mean, I didn't know it was you at first but..." Steve rambles. He’s horrified by how nervous and stupid he sounds. Bucky is so much more beautiful than Steve remembered. His pale blue eyes are staring at Steve with curiosity. He smiles with compassion when Steve nervously wipes his hands on his thighs.

"... anyway, I am back in the neighborhood and, um, well, it's quiet for me these days... I know it sounds weird since we've never been close friends but if you ever feel like catching up, have a coffee or whatever..."

Bucky frowns and bites on his lower lip.

"... or maybe you're too busy. Anyway, I won't bother you any longer, just wanted to say hi. I get lonely these days and..." Steve shuts up abruptly realizing what he just said. Why did he just say that? Why would Bucky care?

Bucky's face softens. He grabs Steve's wrist softly and nods yes. He lets go of Steve and signs something. Steve watches him, dumbfounded.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I don't..."

Bucky shakes his head and chuckles quietly. He gets up, places his notebook and pencils in a messenger bag, and with a movement of his hand, indicates Steve to follow him.

They walk back to the clerk desk. Bucky walks around it and bends over to pet Winter. He smiles proudly when he looks back at Steve. He stands up, walks to his coat hung up on a hook and pulls out his cell phone.  He points first at Steve, then back at his phone.

"Oh, sure." Steve pulls out his phone from his pocket. He gives his number to Bucky, who types surprisingly fast.

          - coffee would be nice :)

 

Steve's face illuminates at the message. He's about to type his answer but remembers that Bucky is standing right in front of him. To Steve’s dismay, Bucky didn't miss any of that and giggles softly, laughter lines forming at the corner of his eyes. He takes a look at the clock and purses his lips. He taps gently with his right hand turned into a fist over his left unresponsive one.

“W-work.” Bucky’s voice is as soft and hesitant as Steve remembered.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Okay, so, see you around I guess?”

Bucky nods enthusiastically. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The following morning, Steve wakes up early. He tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about his awkward encounter with Bucky, wondering how pathetic he sounded. Maybe if he just pretends to forget about it, he won't have to meet with him and talk about how empty his life has been this year.

Sounds of his phone notifications stop the spiral of self-doubt in Steve's head.  He left his phone on his desk the previous night, so he's in a foul mood when he gets up to see who's texting him this early. Walking by his window, he sees Bucky tending to his dog in the park.

          - too early for that coffee

          - ?

          - it's Bucky btw

From his window, he can see Bucky sitting on the bench and pulling his phone out. Steve lets go of his doubts, and he smiles to himself. Could this be that easy for once? Bucky's possible friendship couldn't come at a better time. He texts him back.

          - just getting out of bed   

          - need to shower first

Bucky texts him back his location in the park. Steve hasn't washed and changed that fast in months. He runs down the stairs and meets Bucky across the street, panting -  he really needs to start jogging again. Winter sees him first, and Bucky gets up and greets him.

"Hi! I hope I haven't made you wait for too long." Steve says, trying to catch his breath.  Bucky shrugs with one shoulder and shakes his head gently with a soft smile before looking at Steve expectantly.

"I spotted a Starbucks a couple of blocks away," Steve starts, pointing in the coffee shop's direction, but Bucky shakes his head firmly. He walks a few steps in the opposite direction and signals Steve to follow him.

They walk in a comfortable silence maybe two or three blocks away from Steve's apartment building, Winter leading the way. Steve notices how he always positions himself on Bucky's left side which piques Steve's curiosity.

"Your dog seems to know the way," Steve marvels.

Bucky chuckles. He lifts his right hand mechanically to start signing but stops halfway up. Not only is he holding Winter's leash, but Steve already mentioned he didn't understand sign language.

Steve regrets his lack of knowledge immediately. It's not like he could have learned ASL in one night but... But. He gets lost in his thoughts about how he should have known better, wondering why he always has to ruin things when they're supposed to be simple. He can hear his therapist’s voice saying that perfection doesn't exist and that he needs to be more self-indulgent.

Bucky doesn't notice Steve's inner turmoil or acts like it. He explains slowly, with his hesitant and stammering voice, that Winter is trained to protect his blind side since he misses the left part of his visual field, avoiding a very unpleasant 'jack-in-a-box' sensation when people approach him by this side.

They stop in front of Jane's Bakery. The moment they enter the place, Steve feels a comforting warmth wrapping him. The smell of newly baked bread and cookies and freshly brewed coffee is incomparable. When the man behind the counters welcomes Bucky and Winter as old friends, Steve understands why Bucky refused stubbornly to go the generic coffee shop Steve had suggested.

"Good morning Bucky!" The tall blond man looked more like a Viking than a baker. "Winter!" He walks around the counter and asks Bucky's permission to pet Winter, who's wagging his tail happily. "Hey pal, here, look what I have for you." The man takes out a homemade dog cookie from his apron's front pocket. "You're such a good dog. Taking good care of Bucky aren't you?" He stands up and walks back behind the counter. "Let me drag Jane out of her kitchen; she'll be happy to know you're here," the man says cheerfully.

One of the two ways kitchen door opens, a small woman is coming out backward, giving instructions to the man in the kitchen. "Thor, it's better not be one of your tricks, and watch for those croissants, they better not be burned when I..." She turns, and her face illuminates when she sees Bucky with his dog. "Hi! Sorry for that! I thought Thor was just trying to trade places with me in the kitchen. How are you? Oh God, it's been a while. I'm rusty. Promise you won't laugh." She starts signing enthusiastically. Bucky signs back, and they both continue their conversation silently. Bucky giggles at one point and nods. He pulls out his wallet to pay for his order. He fumbles a little putting the change back in it with just one hand but completes the task while Jane waits patiently with affectionate eyes. She turns to Steve and asks if he wants the same as Bucky.

"Um, I guess so?" It sounds more like a question than an answer, but Steve plays along, hoping that Bucky shares the same taste in coffee since he didn't understand anything from their signed conversation.  He is glad to see Jane filling up two big cups of dark coffee and cutting two slices of apple pie, Steve's favorite. When Steve pulls out his wallet, Jane stops him.

"It's already been taken care of, my dear." Steve looks at Bucky questioningly and blushes. "Why don't you guys go sit at a table? Thor will bring you all of this while I make sure my croissants are out of danger."

Jane goes back behind the kitchen doors while Steve and Bucky sit at a small table by the window and Winter lays down at Bucky's feet. They drink their coffee and eat their pie in silence, except for Steve’s appreciative moans, which make Bucky chuckle. Steve wipes his mouth with his napkin before engaging the conversation.

"I wish I could understand ASL like Jane; I guess I'll have to watch tutorials. You guys know each other?"

Bucky nods his head affirmatively while finishing up his last bite. He takes a sip of his coffee and bring his hand closer to his chest, bends his fingers, keeping his thumb up then turns his hand upward. "How." He points at Steve with his index. "You."

"Oh! This is how you sign how are you?" Steve tries to replicate the movement, but Bucky starts laughing, shaking his head.

"You," he points at Steve's left hand, "t-two hands." He grabs his limp arm and places it over his abdomen to give Steve a better idea how he has to place both hands together before turning them upward.

"Like this?" Steve tries again. This time Bucky nods and smile proudly and lifts his right hand and shakes it.

To Steve's confusion, he taps on his disabled left hand. "C-clapping," he explains and shakes his hand in the air one more time before pointing at Steve. "Both." And Steve shakes both hands.

"That's clapping for you?" They both laugh when Steve turns it into jazz hands.

"You are a great teacher; I wish I knew more," Steve sighs.

Bucky points at himself before signing simultaneously has he speaks slowly. "Not good teacher. Only one arm. Me slow."

"Well then, I am sure there are other people like you who need to learn to sign that way."

Bucky smiles timidly before telling Steve about being a math tutor for Jane's deaf nephew and how he spends two hours a week with the kid to review what he learns in his regular class. Even though Bucky speaks very slowly, stammers and slurs a lot, Steve is thrilled to listen to him and to get to know him. Bucky is surprisingly talkative and tells Steve how he likes working part-time at the library and loves spending time in the history section. He explains that because of some brain damage, his memory isn't great and that he always carries some pens and a notebook. Sometimes, Steve has to play a bit of charade to understand Bucky, but he resists the urge to finish his sentences, wondering if that's what people usually do and how frustrating it must be. In the cozy bakery and with Bucky's simplicity, Steve starts to unwind. When Bucky signs him 'how are you,' it doesn't even come to Steve's mind to lie and pretend that he’s fine.

~*~

A couple of weeks later (and many coffees, slices of apple pie,some croissants and one outstanding lemon pastry which he can't pronounce the French name), Steve's therapist asks him about his social activities. Everything Steve comes up with involves Bucky: a quick chat in the park, a small walk to the library, and lots of giggles at Jane's bakery when Steve tries to learn some basic ASL. Also, some lonely nights with his head full of doubts texting with Bucky, making the conversation more fluent even though sometimes Bucky misuses words or forgets some details.

_“I feel like he is what I've been missing all along.”_

          _“But you know, your well-being can't rely only on one friend. What will happen to you if he leaves? Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but your friend has his own issues. Make sure not to take those on your shoulders.”_

That was enough to perturb Steve for the rest of the day. He has been doing so well lately. He knows he isn't magically healed in such a short time just because he unexpectedly ran into Bucky Barnes a few weeks ago. Even though his therapist seemed concerned, Steve knows that something inside his head was different. That night, instead of going down the usual spiral of doubts, he changes into his compressive under layers made for colder weather, adds sweatpants, a warm hoodie, and goes for a run across the neighborhood.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tag for this chapter: ableism

"Hey, Buck!"

Steve jogs up to where Bucky and Winter stand in the park. It's a beautiful morning, and Steve got out of bed earlier than usual to run 10k, hoping to catch Bucky after. The weather channel says that snow is coming later this week, so Steve makes the best out of his time off of work to get back in shape.

Winter wags his tail when he hears Steve's panting voice greeting him. Bucky smiles and salutes him with his hand before asking how he is.

"I'm good, thanks! Listen, I've been wondering if you'd like to come with me to see the new _Star Wars_ movie this Friday?" 

Steve shows enough enthusiasm to be convincing, but Bucky immediately tenses, looks down at Winter and scowls. When he looks up and sees Steve's demeanor deflating, Bucky sighs and smiles softly. Steve doesn't wait for his answer.

"I just... I just thought it would be nice, but if you're not a fan, I understand. I ..."

Steve halts his ramblings when Bucky shakes his head, his eyes full of sorrow.

"Oh, okay. Uh... Maybe another movie?" Steve proposes, knowing how desperate he sounds.  He notices how Bucky looks tired, how his lips are pressed tightly together and his forehead creased.

"Buck, are you alright?"

Bucky shakes his head and rubs his temple.

"Having a bad migraine?"

Bucky purses his lips and nods in defeat.

"Shit. I'm sorry." Steve apologizes and runs his hand nervously through his sweaty hair. "Now I feel like a jerk. Don't worry; it's just a dumb movie."

Bucky walks up to his usual bench and Steve follows him. They sit there in silence for a while; Steve is now used to those moments of silence with Bucky. He sees, out of the corner of his eye, Bucky's lips moving like he's looking for his words. When he finally speaks, his voice is just a murmur. "You nn-not let me t-talk. I w-want to ss- to see movie but I d-don't know if-if I b-bring Winter."

Steve can barely catch what Bucky is saying but tries his best not to press.

"What about this: I pick you up at your place, and we could go to an early show? It probably won't be as crowded. I'll walk you back after if it makes you more comfortable." At that exact moment, Steve understands why his therapist was concerned about Bucky's issues. But spending time with Bucky makes him happy, and if it means accommodating him, Steve is glad to do so. If he can make a brilliant and inspiring man like Bucky Barnes feel like he’s worth it, then Steve's own existence is worth it too.

Bucky stares into Steve's eyes, looking for reassurance. He looks down and finally nods in agreement.

Steve gets up with his enthusiasm back and lands a hand to Bucky to lift him up off the bench. They agree to text each other on Friday before leaving their separate ways.

~*~

On Friday afternoon, Steve knocks on the door of Bucky's apartment located on the ground floor of a freshly renovated building. Guessing Bucky won’t appreciate being in a crowd without his service dog, Steve made sure to buy the tickets in advance, hoping to skip the waiting line.

He hears Winter's claws on the floor behind the door, then knocks one more time before Bucky opens the door. He's wearing some black jeans that Steve has never seen before and a blue V-neck t-shirt that brings out the blue of his eyes.  His two-days stubble is meticulously trimmed, and his dark curly hair looks so soft that Steve has to fight the urge to run his fingers through it. The way he keeps his head down to hide a shy smile and interlace his fingers to hold his disabled arm steady is just adorable. It crosses Steve's mind that maybe he wasn't the only one to look forward to this particular afternoon.

"Looking good Buck." Steve tries to sound casual, but he can feel the flush on his face. Bucky raises his eyes and nods nervously. "It's been a while since I went to see a movie,” Steve adds, afraid that what he just said had made Bucky uncomfortable. “I got the regular version instead of the 3-D. I hope you don't mind."  To that, Bucky seems to relax a little and signal Steve to come inside. Steve removes his boots and walks into Bucky's apartment. The place is small, tidy and simply decorated. On the table by the couch, Steve spots two small frames. One picture shows a young Bucky - maybe 12 years-old - with a little girl with ponytails, a tall man with dark curly hair and a woman who is surly Bucky's mom based on the resemblance. They are all happily posing in front of the Magic Kingdom in Walt Disney World. The second one is from a couple, a short man in a suit and a fierce-looking smaller Asian woman.  At Steve's puzzled look, Bucky tells him that they are his foster parents. The resilience on Bucky's face means a lot. Steve doesn't know what happened to his family, but he guesses they are not around anymore. He wonders if Bucky will tell him his complete story one day.

A gentle tap on his shoulder brings him out of his thoughts. Bucky is looking at him expectantly. 

"You ready? Mind If we walk? It’s snowing a little outside; it will be nice."

Bucky nods affirmatively and starts dressing for the outdoors. He kneels to hug and pet Winter who whines, not used to be left behind. Steve bends over and rubs Winter's ears. "Don't worry pal; I'll take good care of him. He'll be back soon. You wouldn't like the movie anyway - no cute lady dog in it." Bucky scoffs. They both stand up and leave the tiny apartment.

~*~

The late afternoon viewing of the long-awaited movie is surprisingly crowded. Steve takes off his heavy jacket and offers to hold on to Bucky’s winter coat while they're waiting in line. A small voice from behind catches Steve's ear.

"Mom, why does his arm look so weird?" She mimics Bucky, crooking her hand and balancing her fake limp arm grotesquely. She stops when Steve turns and stares at her, outraged. The mom shushes the little girl and tells her that some people are just born crippled like that. Repulsed, Steve is about to speak his mind to the woman when he feels Bucky pulling him forward in the waiting line. Steve is raging inside and can barely contain himself when he sees the pain in Bucky's eyes.

 _Please. Stop._ Bucky signs.

"But Buck! That woman..." Steve begins, but Bucky signs him to stop one more time.  Steve lets out a frustrated breath, reminding himself that it's not about him and if that's what Bucky wants, he has to respect that. Bucky leans closer and with a shaking voice, asks Steve to not let this ruin his first time in a theatre since he was a child. Steve's not sure what breaks his heart more, Bucky's resilience - probably because he's used to it - or the fact that no one invited him before for something as simple as a movie date.

Steve can't help but smile when Bucky marvels at the movie and the special effects on the big screen. From the corner of his eye, Steve studies the various emotions passing through Bucky's face. His sensitivity is heartwarming. Steve knows he's falling in love, and he's falling hard.

When they walk out of the theatre, the air is chilly, and they can see their breath. It's snowing more heavily by the time they reach the park near Steve's building. While Steve is complaining about the lack of scenes between Poe and Finn - his favorite characters - Bucky extends his arm and touches the snow collected on the back of one of the benches.  Steve is telling about his colleague back in Washington who 'ships' the two of them together, calling them StormPilot when something hits him on the shoulder and sprinkles the side of his face with snow.  He looks over his shoulder and sees Bucky, standing still and trying to look innocent but barely capable of containing his laugh. Steve bends and scoops up snow in his hand and runs after Bucky who giggles when Steve misses his shot, throwing his snowball too far away. They both run across the park, ducking behind benches and bushes, trying to hit each other with snowballs. They are laughing like two kids when Steve reaches Bucky and tackles him to the snow-covered ground and falls over him. In one last effort to win the battle, Bucky picks a handful of snow and flicks it at Steve who shakes it off in Bucky's face.

They sit, covered in snow that is starting to crystallize in their hair. Steve feels his butt getting cold and wet and stands up. He pulls on Bucky's arm and helps him to get up. He keeps his arm around Bucky's shoulder, to make sure he doesn't start any more snowballs fight - or so he says. Truth is, he likes it that way and secretly hopes for more of this in the future.

 


	6. Chapter 6

On his way to Jane's Bakery to meet Bucky, Steve concedes that he can't skip the holiday season, but he wishes he could. The snow from the previous night left a white coat on the city and Christmas carols resonate from the different decorated store entrances he walks by. He's not sure yet what he will do this year since he'll probably be all by himself unless he decides to take a last-minute flight to the West Coast to see some old friends who were kind enough to invite him. The truth is, he would prefer to do something quiet this year.

This morning, when he logged to his Facebook account, he saw a picture that he posted one year ago. He looked so superficial in his black tux standing next to Sam, smiling for the photograph, even though they had argued all day. As he thinks of it, he understands now how harmful it was to lie and pretend everything was fine for so long. He's learning to be faithful to himself and if it means spending the Holidays alone, so be it.

Bucky is in a cheerful silent conversation with Jane when Steve opens the door of the small bakery. Winter, dutifully by Bucky's side, wags his tail and express his excitement when Steve joins them at the little table by the window.

"Good morning Steve! Come and sit down, I have some surprises for you!" Jane joins Thor behind the counter, fills two coffee mugs and prepares a variety plate of Holidays treats. Each little bite reminds Steve of his mom's traditional Christmas cooking.

"So, is your Christmas shopping all done?"

Bucky smiles timidly and slowly explains that this year, his foster parents are going away on vacation for the first time in years and that he went in on the plane tickets with two of Phil and Melinda’s foster kids.

"You're saying you're spending Christmas Eve all alone?" Steve points out like it wasn't his case too. Bucky makes a one-shoulder shrug and sips on his coffee while watching the people outside rushing with their arms full of bags. Steve points at Winter with his head, like he's part of the conversation and takes his chance. "Would you two like to come to my place and spend Christmas Eve with me?" Bucky's eyes immediately light up. He nods vigorously.

One hour later and way too much of Jane's sugar bites, Steve hops back to his place in a festive mood. He has seven days to find a present for Bucky and make this year's holiday season one to remember for both of them.

~*~

On December 24th, Steve shows up early in the afternoon at Bucky’s place to help him with his duffle bag and a few necessities for Winter. They decided earlier that week that Bucky would spend the night at Steve’s apartment - finally putting his spare room to use – and watch old movies together.

With his mom’s old Irish recipe book, Steve cooks a comforting holiday meal for both of them followed by the best chocolate cake Steve ever tasted, courtesy of Jane’s Bakery

Sitting on the floor by the small Christmas tree in Steve’s cozy apartment, Bucky tries to guess each little gifts by shaking it next to his ear.

"I-I think those are th-the keys for mm-my Ja-aguar!" Bucky jokes, shaking the of the boxes.

Steve loves how much more Bucky talks when they are only the two of them together. Steve laughs so hard at Buck's self-derision that he is crying. It's been going on like this for many minutes now. Steve drinks a sip out of his glass of wine while Bucky tries to open the first gift box.

"V-very funny Rogers. How - how many rolls of t-tape did you use, p-punk?" Bucky laughs heartily at Steve's prank. He fiddles a little bit with the box impossible to open even with two functioning hands until Steve takes out a pocket knife and helps Bucky with it.

The smallest box has a luxury shea butter balm for Bucky's lips. The biggest one has a framed chart with the chronicles of life for the history buff that Bucky is. Another one has a copy of _The Devil in the White City_. Steve took a chance with this one, but judging on how interested Bucky looks when reading the back of the book, he knows he picked well.

"Okay, this one is for Winter!" Steve takes a small package wrapped in red paper from under the small artificial three. "Want some help with that one?" Bucky nods and signs yes. His eyes are bright. He looks so happy, and Steve wishes it could always be that way because Bucky deserves so much more than the cards he's been dealt in life.

Inside the little box, there is a silver bone-shaped dog tag personalized for Winter. At the look of it, Bucky bites on his lower lip and blinks away happy tears, moved by Steve's attention. He hugs Steve tightly with his good arm before signing thank you, too emotional to speak. He takes a moment to appreciate all the things Steve gave him before picking the last gift under the tree.

"N-not mu-much, b-bu-but..." He shrugs and smiles self-deprecatingly. The way he's stammering, Steve knows he's nervous.

Inside the gift bag, there is a soft scarf made of lambswool with stripes of various shades of blue and grey.

"Bucky, it's so nice. I love it!" Steve wraps the scarf around his neck. Bucky stares at him with admiration.

"F-fits y-your eyes." He says, blushing slightly.

~*~

The Sound of Music is on TV, and Julie Andrews' voice is singing in the back of Steve and Bucky's conversation. Steve tells funny anecdotes of things that happened at his workplace or about awful places he traveled to and shows he attended. Bucky listens to him closely, continually smiling. Naturally, lots of those stories include his ex-partner Sam, but Steve tries not to dwell too much on that. They changed earlier into comfy clothes, ready for their planned classic movie night but decided to finish their bottle of wine first. They swallow their last sip of wine and make themselves comfortable on Steve's leather couch. Steve is about to press play to watch _Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark_ when he hears Bucky's hesitant voice.

"Steve?"

"Yes, Buck?" Steve turns the TV off so he can hear Bucky's soft voice better.

"What-wh-what does it f-feel like to be in lo-love?" He runs his fingers through Winter's hair with the beauty of a child's innocence.

Steve turns his head and looks through the window while gathering his thoughts. It's snowing lightly on New York tonight, and the land cityscape is idyllic. He smiles as he remembers the best moments of his past relationship. He turns and looks at Bucky who pets Winter timidly, avoiding Steve's eyes.

"At first you ask yourself 'Is that it? Is it possible? Can I be this lucky?' You wake up in the morning, and the first thing that comes to your mind is the other. You wonder if he or she is awake, how was their night. You forget to stress about work because you feel like nothing can go wrong because you have the other's full support. When you laugh at something, you look at each other and laugh even harder. Your thoughts just seamlessly flow into the other's mind." Steve turns his head and stares at an invisible point on the floor, thoughtful. "When you do something silly, he still looks at you with admiration. Wherever you are, as long as you are together, you feel at home; you feel safe. Whatever you do, you the see pride in your lover's eyes. When he talks about something he loves, you get entrapped in his passion. It's like..." Steve stops and looks back at Bucky. "It's a weird feeling of craving the other's presence, and worrying in his absence. You feel like you’re the most beautiful person in the world. You forget your flaws," Steve points at Bucky's left arm, "or your disabilities because the other doesn't care about it. You feel stronger and more fragile at the same time."

Bucky looks around the room, nodding absently before staring back into Steve’s eyes.

"Then, I think I-I'm in love with you, Steve." He turns his head away and stares at the ground with a sad smile on his face like he wasn’t allowed to feel this way.

Steve reaches softly for the side of Bucky's face. As he turns his head hesitantly under Steve's touch, Steve presses his lips gently on Bucky's. The kiss is short and clumsy as someone's first kiss can be, but Steve will cherish this moment for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking time to read this; thanks for your support <3<3 someone asked for a part 2 , I might have an idea ;)  
> For those celebrating, enjoy your Holidays and stay safe! This time of year can be difficult for lots of people; I know, I’ve been there, and not everyone has a Steve or a Bucky to remind them their worth. Hang in there, things get better. You never know when you’ll change someone’s life so don’t give up xx
> 
> Update: part 2 is coming soon ;)


End file.
